A/N: This story is done, just posting a part each day. It's also short.
Damian parried an imaginary overhead strike. His left slashed through his opponents belly while the right dropped behind his head in ready position. He kicked to his right and behind while his right arm simultaneously struck a head blow. His left arm then followed with another belly slash and stopped in block position beside his waist.
He went on with the continuous flow of movements – one arm going to a ready position while the other moved to a blocking pose and dealing agonizing blows in between. The short swords he used whirled in a deadly dance as his feet occasionally crippled his imaginary opponents with strikes to knees and groins.
He had been taught at an early age that weapons were mere tools and to treat them as though they were extensions of his arms. Damian took that teaching to heart with the handheld weapons and added some of the devastating kicks that he had seen Grayson use. The constant movement of high and low attacks made him that much more formidable to his enemies.
A voice broke through his concentration.
"Where's Dick? And Alfred?"
"I am neither servant nor secretary, Drake." He answered, not pausing in his training.
The older boy huffed. "If you're going to be that way, I'll just look up Dick's tracker then."
"My father took him to confront Wilbur Dernell." He executed a roundhouse kick. He was about to strike the finishing blow but his lunge was interrupted by a loud beeping from the computer.
Drake ran over and swiftly typed in commands. "That's Dick's signal. He's in the First Centennial Savings building."
"My father mentioned going to a bank before they left." Damian stopped and crossed to the computer as well.
He watched Drake pull up a handful of the files his father was working on.
"Wilbur Dernell. Assistant Vice President of First Centennial." The older boy murmured. "Looks like he's been misdirecting Batman Inc funds to an offshore account. Why didn't Oracle find this?"
"You may ask her later," Damian tossed his short swords away. "Grayson is in trouble."